


I still worship the flame

by stelleappese



Series: Shobbs smut [2]
Category: Fast and the Furious Series, Hobbs & Shaw (2019)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bruises, Choking, Cuckolding, Deck and Brixton both have a violence kink, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Rimming, Spanking, Spitroasting, Trapped in an Interrogation Room, Voyeurism, also kinda???, but very briefly dubious tbh, kinda???, uuuuh here we go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 21:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19858375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelleappese/pseuds/stelleappese
Summary: This time around, Hobbs is not immediately available to lend Shaw a hand.Brixton, though, is.(Again, the Rape/Non-con is more of a precaution than anything else.)





	I still worship the flame

**Author's Note:**

> 'Sup guys, I'm going to hell :D
> 
> I *am* trying very hard to write a decent goddamned fanfic for this fandom, but I have a filthy mind and everybody's hot, so.  
> Have some more cracktastic smut.
> 
> (Set after [this other load of smut](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17753009).)

Shaw has been boring Brixton for a while, now. He's leaning on the desk in the interrogation room, looking scruff and battered after their little adventure, possibly feeling tougher now that Brixton's hands are shackled with handcuffs made with the one and only objective of keeping _him_ restrained. They've been alternating in the interrogation, Shaw and Hobbs. At the moment, Hobbs is in the adjacent room, on the other side of a big glass window, getting himself a glass of water.  
Brixton yawns. Shaw finishes his coffee and slams the paper cup against the desk.  
"Do I look like I'm fucking around?" he asks.  
"You look like you need some sleep," Brixton says. "And some band-aids." he adds, with a little grin.  
Shaw looks like he's about to say something, but stops halfway. He blinks. He leans a bit more heavily against the desk.  
Brixton tilts his head and looks at him. He's blinking hard now, face flushed. He seems to recognize the feeling, whatever it is, because he suddenly looks _scared_ , and Brixton, who's almost managed to destroyed half of the world, hasn't managed to get that look on Shaw's face _himself_.  
He turns, maybe too fast, because he almost loses his balance and has to grab the edge of the desk to avoid falling.  
Hobbs, on the other side of the glass, finally realizes something is going on, and frowns at Shaw.  
"It's happening again." Shaw says.  
Whatever 'it' is, it gets Hobbs to basically throw his glass of water on the floor and bolt to the door. Before he gets there, however, the lights turn off with a whir, then back again, and when Hobbs tries to open the door, it doesn't budge. Shaw tries the interrogation room door, but that's not moving either.  
Brixton, who still has no fucking clue why Hobbs and Shaw are freaking the fuck out, just keeps looking from one to the other.  
"So, uh. What's going on?" he asks, cautiously alert, trying to figure out if he needs to put some actual effort into trying to escape.  
"Shut up." Shaw murmurs.  
On the other room, Hobbs frantically presses buttons on the control panel, then, when nothing works, slams a chair against the glass. Absolutely nothing happens.  
" _Fuck_!" Hobbs shouts. The sound doesn't reach the interrogation room. He starts miming something to Shaw, mouthing 'stay calm' or something like that. Brixton slams his fist against the desk, and when Shaw looks at him, and as a consequence Hobbs does as well, he nods at the camera in the corner of the room. The light is on. It's zooming in and out. If _that_ is working, other things may be working too. _And_ , someone is watching them.   
Hobbs frowns. He tentatively presses a button on the control panel, and the intercom buzzes on.  
"Someone will notice we're having trouble," Hobbs says, trying to sound reassuring, "They'll come get us."  
"Why the _fuck_ does this always happen to _me_?" Shaw groans. "I _told you_ I should have killed that guy."  
"The guy's in jail, he's..."  
"Obviously he's _not_ in jail, Hobbs." Shaw snaps.  
"What's going on?" Brixton asks, again.  
"Shut up!" both Hobbs and Shaw says, at the same time. If Brixton's hand weren't restrained, he'd raise them both in an 'excuse me!' gesture. As it is, he just keeps looking at them.

Half an hour goes by, more or less, and Shaw starts shivering.  
He's sitting against the wall on Brixton's right, hugging himself, looking miserable. On the other side of the glass, Hobbs paces up and down.  
"Is it that fuck or die drug?" Brixton asks, after a while.

Hobbs and Shaw both turn and stare at him, dumbfounded.  
"Gotta keep myself informed, don't I?" Brixton shrugs.  
Hobbs squints at him. He looks at Shaw, then back to Brixton.  
"No." Shaw says, without even looking at Hobbs.  
"Not sure you have any choice," Brixton says. "But I would need something in return."  
"We can discuss that." Hobbs says, carefully.  
" _No_ , you cannot." Shaw insists, trying to drag himself up.  
"I do this, and when the doors open I'm out of here."  
"I can't do that."  
"Then your mate's done for."  
"He's _not_ getting out of here," Shaw insists.  
"You'll change your tune in another hour or so," Brixton says. "If you're still conscious, that is."  
Shaw is about to snap something back, but the buzz and click of Brixton's handcuffs opening interrupts him. He shoots Hobbs a 'seriously!?' look. Brixton massages his wrists.  
"If you hurt him..." Hobbs growls, low and dangerous enough Brixton goes still for a moment. He probably expects to be mocked, but the mocking doesn't come.  
"I'm not into that kind of thing," he says, and walks to Shaw, kneels in front of him. 

Shaw looks at him, murderous, a cornered animal. When Brixton reaches out and touches his neck to check his pulse, Shaw flinches; when Brixton's thumb brushes against his jaw, he unconsciously tilts his head back a little. Brixton smirks at that.  
He tugs the shirt off of Shaw, watches him for a moment as he presses himself against the wall, chest rising and falling rapidly.  
"Don't worry about it," Brixton says, "I'm a gentleman."  
"Like hell you are," Shaw mutters.  
He does have a point. Shaw is still covered in bruises and cuts, and Brixton was the one who put them there. He thumbs at one of them, on Shaw's chest, and Shaw hisses and tries to get away from Brixton's touch.  
"I've got standards," Brixton assures him. Shaw rolls his eyes.

Not that Shaw's mistrust matters. It takes Brixton very little effort to grab him and pull him on his lap. Shaw instinctively tries to push him away, but Brixton ignores that; he sits back, maneuvers around until Shaw is straddling him, unzips Shaw's pants.

"That won't help," Shaw says.  
"It'll help it feel nice," Brixton says, sliding his hand down Shaw's pants and gently palming at his cock. Shaw's mouth clenches in a thin line, his hands don't stop trying to keep Brixton at a distance. Brixton's free hand moves to Shaw's lower back, pulls him closer. He presses a kiss to Shaw's neck, but Shaw shifts away from it.  
"Come on, love." Brixton murmurs. "Don't be shy."  
The look Shaw shoots him is eloquent enough, but the fact he's shooting it from Brixton's lap, his face flushed, his cock getting hard under Brixton's fingers, takes a lot of the gravitas out of it.

The next kiss is accepted a bit more willingly; Shaw's Adam's apple bobbing as Brixton's teeth drag against his skin.

Brixton grabs Shaw's hand and guides it down between his legs, molding it against his own half-hard cock. The look on Shaw's face, something on the edge between surprise and concern, makes Brixton chuckle. When Brixton unzips his pants and pulls out his cock, Shaw swallows.  
"We'll work up to that." Brixton grins, guiding Shaw's fingers around it and leaning in to kiss him on the mouth. He takes the fact Shaw doesn't bite as an invitation.

He spits on his hand, stuffs it down Shaw's pants again, but this time he starts pressing against his hole.

He almost doesn't catch the fact Shaw's head turns ever so slightly, his eyes briefly darting to Hobbs.

There's some more maneuvering before Shaw ends up sprawled on the floor with Brixton tugging his pants and underwear off and leaving him naked and shivering. The purple and blue of the bruises look so nice against the white of his skin, Brixton thinks, pulling him closer as Shaw scrambles to perch up on his elbows. The dark pink of Shaw's cock against his stomach, too, looks pretty nice. And he feels so _hot_ under Brixton's hands.

"Desperate times, uh?" Brixton smiles, and before Shaw can question his words, he's grabbed him by the waist and pulled him close, spread his legs, and sunk between them, tongue pressing against Shaw's hole.  
"Fucking _Christ_!" Shaw half-shouts, his voice breaking halfway through.  
And that's not usual Brixton's thing, if he has to be honest; but it helps, _fuck_ if it helps, that Shaw looks and feels so vulnerable.

The sounds he's making, too, help. His stuttering breathing is painted with choked-down moans, some terribly close to whining.

When Brixton tentatively presses a finger inside him, Shaw's hips buck up. The second finger, accompanied by Brixton biting down against Shaw's thigh, is received with an actual surprised shout.  
" _Watch it_ ," Hobbs' voice growls. Brixton laughs.

He wonders if Hobbs is enjoying the view; Shaw sprawled open under Brixton, a leg over Brixton's shoulder, hands clutching at the floor, back arching up as Brixton fingers him. He's closed his eyes, Shaw; head tilted, eyebrows drawn together. Brixton is tempted to ask him if he's picturing Hobbs in his place, but he doesn't want Shaw to tense up and lash out. Later, maybe.

Once Shaw is as slicked as he's going to be, Brixton pulls him up on his lap again.  
He spreads some spit on his cock, studies Shaw's face. His eyelids look heavy, his eyes feverish. He still tries to keep some distance between himself and Brixton, but he feels weaker, now. The idea was giving Shaw a degree of control on how fast or slow to slide Brixton's cock inside him, but he doesn't seem to have the strength to do that. Doesn't matter. Brixton will deal with it himself.  
"Tell me if it's too much," Brixton says. Shaw's only reaction is to swallow and let his head rest against Brixton's shoulder.  
He gasps when the tip of Brixton's cock pushes in, fingers pressing against Brixton's arm. Once he's deep enough inside him, Brixton reaches around and grabs Shaw's ass with both his hands, leading him up and down in little increments. He slows down when Shaw tenses up, waits for him to relax to keep going, resists the urge to sink in in one single thrust.   
Once he's all the way in, he goes still for a moment, waiting for Shaw to adjust before he starts moving again. He kisses Shaw's neck again, sucks at it; one more bruise to add to Shaw's collection. That's when Shaw's breath catches in his throat and he murmurs a soft little "Luke..."  
Brixton smiles against Shaw's skin. "I see how it is," he comments.

He kisses him again, positions himself better, and starts fucking into him, pulling Shaw down to meet his upward thrusts. It's slow, at first, shallow; then, once he feels Shaw's body give way better, he pulls almost all the way out and then back in in a single, smooth movement. Shaw's clinging to him with whatever strength he's got left, a hand to the back of Brixton's head, fingers dragging against Brixton's short hair.

As the pace gets steadier, faster, Brixton tilts his head back and kisses Shaw again; this time Shaw kisses him back, slow and deep.   
"Touch me," Shaw whispers, against Brixton's mouth.  
"Ah," Brixton smiles. "Is that an order?"  
Shaw answers by catching Brixton's lower lip between his teeth before he kisses him again.

He wonders what sex with Shaw is like when he's not drugged out of his mind. Fucking him like this would have been harder if he hadn't done it before, so it's obviously something he likes; but Brixton has a feeling he's not usually this compliant. He wonders if he's just bossy, or if it's something more than that.

He does touch him, though; he wraps his hand around Shaw's cock and starts jerking him off as intensely as he's fucking into him. He feels him tense up, clenching around him, before he spills against Brixton's hand, whimpering against the crook of Brixton's neck.

That's when Hobbs slams a fist against the glass between them, making both of them jump. When they turn, though, he's pacing around the other room again, cursing loudly.

"Feeling better, love?" Brixton asks, starting to scatter kisses against Shaw's face. Shaw presses an open hand against Brixton's face to keep him off of him. That's enough of an answer for Brixton.  
"It wasn't enough the last time," Shaw says.  
"The _last_ time?" Brixton snorts, "You have some strange enemies."  
Shaw mutters something and tries to climb off of Brixton, gulping at the feeling of Brixton's cock still deep inside him.  
"Should I keep going?" Brixton asks. "Do you need a moment?"  
Shaw pushes him off and gets up, slow and unsteady. He has to lean on the desk to keep himself up, and Brixton gets up to give him a hand. And, since he's at it, he wraps himself up around Shaw from behind and presses himself against him.  
"How many times did you come the last time?" he murmurs, a hand against Shaw's chest, the other against his stomach and moving lower.  
"A couple," Shaw mutters, gloomily.   
"That's manageable." Brixton comments, then adds, in a low, teasing purr, mostly because Shaw seems a little stronger than before: "What do you like him to do to you, when he's the one fucking you?"  
Shaw reacts as well as Brixton had predicted, pushing him off and trying to hit him. Brixton blocks his punch and pushes Shaw against the glass window, hard, but not hard enough to hurt him.   
"Hey!" Hobbs shouts, from the other side.  
"It was just a question," Brixton says, keeping Shaw still as he struggles.   
"Get off of him." Hobbs says, teeth bared. So close, and yet so completely powerless. Brixton shoots him an amused look, then looks back at Shaw.   
"I can't see why we can't have some fun, since we're stuck in this situation anyway." he says. Shaw glares at him. Brixton keeps him still for a moment longer, then lets him go, holds up his hands, takes a step back. Shaw has to cling to the wall to keep himself steady. He looks at him as Brixton takes off his shirt and throws it on the floor, his eyes dart up and down Brixton's torso. He may be tougher than Shaw, but the joined effort of he and Hobbs has left bruises on Brixton as well, and Shaw's eyes seem drawn to them. 

Brixton smirks at Shaw's face. He walks closer again, ignores the way Shaw's entire body tenses. He touches Shaw's forearm, his fingers slide to Shaw's clenched fists; he uncurls his hand and leads it to one of the bruises on his rib-cage.  
"Do you like that?" he asks, partly out of curiosity, partly to tease him. "Or is it the fact you put it there that you like?"  
Shaw swallows. His nostrils flare up. His fingers press into Brixton's skin in a way that would have been painful, if he felt pain the way Shaw does.  
"He doesn't look like he'd be into that." Brixton says, eyes moving to Hobbs, who's standing as still as Shaw, following the exchange with a mix of rage and worry. "Is he the kind of guy who likes the feeling of your hands around his neck while you're riding his cock?" Brixton asks, and Shaw's breathing speeds up a little. He looks down at him to catch him lick his lips and look away, but he doesn't take his hand off of Brixton's ribs.   
"Or maybe you're a little more like me," Brixton continues, "I'm up to anything, myself. So whether your hands are the ones around my neck, or mine around yours, I'm happy either way."

His words are accompanied by just that, a hand moving up against the side of Shaw's neck, then spreading gently against his throat. And Shaw may not answer, but he does tilt his head back, and Brixton is close enough, now, to feel Shaw's cock press against his thigh, hard again.  
"Tell me what you want," Brixton says, his voice a low, sweet purr again.  
Shaw doesn't.  
What he does is he turns around so he's looking at Hobbs, he grabs Brixton's hand and guides is back against his neck, presses his ass against Brixton's crotch. And that's everything Brixton needs to know. 

"It's all right," Shaw murmurs. Hobbs is looking at Shaw, now, lost and confused. And, if Brixton had to judge by how tight his pants look, uncomfortably hard.  
"Maybe give us a hand, here, uh?" Brixton says, winking at Hobbs, who immediately ruffles up and glares knives at him.  
Brixton doesn't stop to worry about him, though. He spits on his hand, gives his cock a few strokes before pushing inside Shaw again, this time all the way in. Shaw's bends over a little, both hands spread against the glass. Brixton's grip around his throat gets a little tighter; he pushes Shaw closer to the wall, pulls his head back a little as he starts fucking into him. He feels Shaw's Adam's apple move up and down against the palm of his hand, feels his pulse throb against his fingertips. His other hand, gripping against Shaw's side, will most likely leave a mark there. The thought alone makes Brixton thrust harder, faster. Shaw is not as hot as before, but he still feels incredibly warm; and now that Brixton doesn't have to worry about hurting him, he can enjoy how tight he feels around his cock.   
He wishes he could see the look on Shaw's face when he moves a hand from the glass and down between his legs, because it looks as if he's keeping eye contact with Hobbs, and the _thought_ of it, of Shaw full of Brixton's cock but still looking at Hobbs as he jerks himself off, makes Brixton's head fucking spin.

And even more than that, there's the fact Hobbs places a hand on the glass as well, against Shaw's, and keeps looking at him as he, too, pulls out his cock and starts touching himself. 

"Aw," Brixton pants, pressing his forehead against Shaw's shoulder. "That's adorable."  
"Shut the fuck up," Hobbs hisses, but without conviction, and in a tight, fragile voice.  
Brixton laughs. He moves his hand away from Shaw's throat and against his other side, and starts thrusting harder, pulling Shaw back to meet him halfway. Shaw's fingers twitch against the glass. He's stopped trying to be quiet and he's just panting and moaning. Brixton is not exactly paying attention to Hobbs, but he's pretty sure he's the one who comes first, because all of a sudden Shaw murmurs a shaky: " _Fuck_ ," and starts pushing back against Brixton, stroking himself quicker. Brixton takes it as his cue to stop holding back. He straightens up, lets himself get a good look at Shaw's ass, spreading him open to look at how nicely his hole is stretched around Brixton's cock. He's not sure he's got enough time to do things properly, but Shaw's ass is just so invitingly round and pale, it just feels completely natural to slap a hand against it once, twice, and watch as it turns a little pinker. Shaw yelps at the very first slap, and Hobbs jolts up.  
"Next time," Brixton promises, "Next time I'm going to make sure your ass is as red as a cherry before I fuck you."  
He's tensing up again, Shaw, and heat is spreading down Brixton thighs, in the pit of his stomach.  
"I want to come inside you," he pants, "I want to fill you up and watch my come drip out of your hole once I'm done with you."  
"Fuck," Shaw whines.  
"Tell me you want it," Brixton growls.  
" _Yes_ , fuck. Yes."  
"Say it."  
"Come inside me," Shaw moans, "Do it. Come for me."  
Brixton can already feel Shaw's muscles twitch and squeeze around his cock when he says that, and the knowledge he's fucking him right through his orgasm and coming himself, buried deep inside him, just as Shaw's starting to feel all sensitive and over-fucked makes it _so much better_.

Shaw's legs almost give in underneath him. In keeping him up, Brixton pulls him closer, and Shaw has to swallow a whimper. He doesn't pull out immediately, Brixton; he helps ease Shaw down on his knees before he does that and, as he promised, makes him lean against the wall a little bit and spreads his cheeks apart, pulling out of him slowly and looking at his pink hole as it twitches and clenches, adjusting to the emptiness, and at the way his come drips out of him.  
"Look at that," Brixton murmurs, almost dreamily, pushing two fingers inside Shaw, who seems too busy enjoying the afterglow to give him hell about it.  
That's when the doors unlock with a loud buzz.  
Neither of them really moves, though. Shaw half-hartedly shrugs Brixton off and sits, more on his side than on his ass, still half-leaning against the wall.  
"You know," Brixton says. "I could go for another round."  
Shaw groans.

The door slams open, and then springs shut, and Hobbs marches towards them. He pushes Brixton hard enough he almost topples over, and kneels next to Shaw.   
"Are you alright?" he asks, urgently. He doesn't wait for Shaw to answer; he touches his forehead, frowns, checks his pulse. Shaw swats his hand away, but he does rest his head against Hobbs' shoulder. "You're still kind of..."  
The lights go off and on again. The light on the door shines red.  
" _Sweet_." Brixton comments.  
"Hold the fuck on, would you?" Shaw groans, "Let me catch my breath."  
"You can't be serious," Hobbs says, "You want him to fuck you again?"  
"Not him," Shaw mumbles, curling up against Hobbs, a hand lazily giving Hobbs' cock a squeeze through his pants. "You."  
"Oh." Hobbs murmurs.   
"I may have a suggestion." Brixton says.  
"You shut you _fucking_ mouth." Hobbs snaps at him, "Get your hands on him again and I'm going to cut your dick off and shove it up your ass."  
"He seemed to like my hands on him," Brixton says, smiling brightly.  
"Shut the _fuck_ up." Hobbs insists.   
Shaw, on his part, doesn't look interested in their bickering at all, because he's stuffed a hand down Hobbs' pants and he's started stroking his cock. Not with a terrible amount of conviction, but obviously pleasantly enough Hobbs' mouth snaps shut.  
"Deck, what the fuck." he mutters.  
"What?" Shaw answers.   
"I was going to say," Brixton continues, "That since we're stuck in here, he could suck your dick while I keep my promise and spank him good and hard, then fuck him again, and then _you_ can have your turn. He's bound to come at some point through that, isn't he?"  
"That's not happening," Hobbs says, in a chocked little voice, at the same exact time as Shaw murmurs: "That does sound nice."  
There's a moment of silence in which Hobbs glares at Brixton, Brixton smiles back at him, and Shaw shuffles around until he's got Hobbs' cock out and has started sucking on it.  
"Can you _not_?" Hobbs shouts, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him up.  
"No, I can't _not_ , Luke." Shaw shouts back. " _You_ somehow never have this fucking problem, so you'll have to trust my goddamned word when I tell you I'm not fucking _done_ yet."  
"Well, then, hm. We can deal with it ourselves, and he can just. Turn around and look at the wall, or something."  
"That is so rude," Brixton comments.  
"What does it matter if he fucks me again? He's already done it twice." Shaw shrugs.  
"I don't want him to touch you," Hobbs mutters, looking away.  
"Is that why you had a hard on the entire time I was fucking him?" Brixton asks, smugly.  
"You..." Hobbs starts, but a look from Shaw shuts him up.  
"It's not going to happen again." Shaw says. "This ends here."  
"It does," Brixton agrees, "As I said, once that door opens up again, I'm out of here."  
"Are you sure?" Hobbs asks, looking at Shaw. Shaw's answer is staring at him straight in the eye as he bends down between his legs again.

Having a pillow to put underneath Shaw would be nice, but Brixton makes do. He sits behind Shaw, crosses his legs, tries to prop him up so that his weight is not entirely on his knees and Brixton has his ass right in front of him. His fingertips did, in fact, leave marks on Shaw's sides; but the pink hand-print on his ass is already fading. Brixton fills his hands with Shaw's ass, hears Shaw hum around Hobbs' cock and Hobbs gasp at the sensation.  
Brixton starts slow, teasing, trying to ignore the urge to go straight to making Shaw scream that bolts through him any time he focuses too much on the fact he's still slick and wet with Brixton's come. The first proper spank is followed by a breathy "ah!" on Shaw's part that makes Hobbs' face flush red.  
Again, Brixton would love to see what Hobbs is seeing. He's got a nice mouth, Shaw. Brixton is ready to bet it's going to look much nicer shiny with spit and wrapped around someone's cock.   
It seems he's looking up at Hobbs, too, from his position and from the look on Hobbs' face. Brixton can sort of tell when he does that, because his head stops moving up and down and sort of tilts to on side, and the rhythm with which he's stroking Hobbs' dick changes.  
He slaps Shaw's ass again, and again. Watches as pink splotches bloom against his pale skin. His cock is throbbing again, but that will have to wait.

As Shaw's ass goes pinker, Brixton starts spanking him harder and harder. He grins at the whimpers and moans, all muffled around Hobbs' cock. He lets him have it for a while, then brings up the rhythm until there's hardly any break between one slap and the next, and Shaw is pressing his face against Hobbs' crotch, hand still wrapped around his cock, almost too distracted (or, as Brixton would rather think, too overwhelmed,) to keep going.   
"Fuck..." Hobbs murmurs, looking down at him. And Shaw is low enough, now, that Brixton can see both his mouth pressing against Hobbs' balls _and_ the hungry, helpless look on Hobbs' face. Shaw drags his tongue against Hobbs' cock, precome smearing against his cheek. The spanking gets faster, relentless; enough Shaw gives up and just curses between his teeth. It's only then, when Shaw's ass is bright pink and hot under Brixton's hands, that he finally stops and kneels behind him, pulling out his cock. He doesn't immediately stuff it inside Shaw, the way every inch of him is pleading for; he rests it on Shaw's ass, squeezes the cheeks around it, takes a moment to enjoy the contrast between his own dark skin and the pink-and-white of Shaw's ass. The warmth of Shaw's skin underneath Brixton's cock feels _so good_.  
"What are you waiting for?" Shaw asks, his voice hoarse.  
"So impatient..." Brixton comments, softly, before spreading the cheeks of Shaw's ass apart and enjoying the view as he slides the head of his cock in and out a couple of times before pushing all the way in. Shaw sighs deeply, but seems to find this more manageable than the spanking, because he goes back to sucking Hobbs' cock, and this time he seems to swallow it down deeper and keep it there for a moment. Hobbs bites his lips, screws his eyes shut. It would be nice to distract him again, Brixton thinks, to fuck him so hard he forgets Hobbs is there to begin with; but he doesn't. He fucks him slow and deep, occasionally reaches down to gives Shaw's dick a few strokes. He still molds his hands to Shaw's ass and squeezes, and when he does that Shaw's back arches up just so, and whatever it is he's doing to Hobbs' cock makes Hobbs moan softly. 

When Brixton _does_ speed up his rhythm, Shaw abandons Hobbs' cock and kneels up; he brings a hand to the back of Hobbs' head to pull him in for a kiss, and Hobbs doesn't have to be asked twice. Shaw is clinging to Hobbs for balance with one arm, and Hobbs himself is keeping him up as well, but Shaw's free hand has found Hobbs' one, and their fingers are intertwined as they kiss, and, Brixton thinks with a good amount of pleasure, as Brixton's rhythm falters and he comes inside Shaw again.  
To Shaw's credit, he doesn't miss a beat.   
As soon as Brixton pulls out of him, he's crawling onto Hobbs' lap, guiding his cock inside himself, wrapping his legs around his waist. He keeps kissing Hobbs as he rides him, both hands cupping his face as Hobbs' squeeze Shaw's pink ass, making him whine into the kiss. The way Hobbs looks up at him, the few times they're apart, is something very close to reverence.   
Brixton makes a sound between a snort and a chuckle and flops on the floor. From that perspective he can see Shaw curl up against Hobbs, he sees the way Hobbs' eyebrow draw together; he sees the little hops Shaw makes as Hobbs bucks his hips up into him two, three times, and finally goes still.  
Brixton expects Shaw to climb off of Hobbs, but he doesn't. They both stay exactly where they are, tangled in one another, Hobbs fingers still pressed against Shaw's skin. He hears the soft smacking sound of a little kiss. 

The light above the door flashes green.


End file.
